


Starship

by Kenophobia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Has Powers, Gen, Mild Gore, Monster Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 06, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenophobia/pseuds/Kenophobia
Summary: In the episode 6x19 "Mommy Dearest", Dean is turned into a monster by Eve before Cas cures him. Did anyone else think that was way too easy?





	1. Count on Me

As he enters the diner behind Sam, Dean thinks to himself that it looks exactly like the thousand other diners they’ve been in before; same bell above the door, same high counter with faux-leather stools, and same waitress in a cute little uniform with a bow in the back. The main difference this time around is that everyone else in the diner is a monster. 

Sam confirms this by pulling out his cell phone and scanning around the room with it in video mode. Every single one of the other customers exhibits the tell-tale corneal flare that the brothers usually associate with shapeshifters. They’re badly outnumbered and now would be an excellent time to beat a hasty retreat, but before they can the waitress sets a plate of food down in front of each of them. 

“Two specials, right?” she says. 

“Uh, no, that’s not for us. We were just heading out” Sam says trying to edge towards the exit.

“Now, that would be rude, Sam.” 

Dean takes another look at the waitress as she stands in front of them, behind the counter. At first glance, she looks like every other fresh-faced diner girl, trying to save up enough money for college, the kind Dean normally loves to flirt with, but there’s a knowing smirk on her face and Sam, quick as always, puts it together. 

“Eve” he says.

“Pleasure” she replies without smiling. 

As if on some signal that is invisible to the hunters, several of the diner’s monster patrons stand simultaneously from their tables and move to block the exits. Another of them picks up the duffle sitting between the boys and hands it to Eve, who removes the hidden shotgun and brings it to her face to smell. 

“Phoenix ash. I’m impressed, I bet you had to go a long way for that.” Eve hands the weapon back to the minion who carries it off somewhere, presumably to destroy. She turns back to the brothers, “relax, I’m not here to fight.”

“No” agrees Dean, “just to rally every freak on the planet, bring in Khan worms, and spider people, and dragons. And don’t even get me started on these new pets of yours. What, did you run out of ideas, and just decide to throw everything in the blender and see what happened?”

“They’re not random. The Hybrids will be my greatest creation. Yes, it took me some trial and error to work out the kinks, but the second generation is strong and obedient, and the third generation will be even better. Besides, I needed the help.”

“With what? Sam asks, “tearing apart the planet?”

“You misunderstand me” Eve says, leaning towards them, across the counter. “I never wanted that, not at first. I liked our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?”

“The natural order. My children turn a few of you, you hunt a few of them. It worked. Until my children started getting kidnapped and tortured, even my first borns, the alphas. I was pushed into this. Afterall, a mother defends her children.”

“Really?” Dean scoffs. “You’re using the mother-of-the-year defense?”

“It happens to be true. Don’t believe me?” Eve’s skin ripples and suddenly Mary Winchester is standing before them. “Didn’t your own mother sacrifice herself to save you? I’m no different.” 

“Alright, this conversation’s over. If you’re going to kill us, then kill us” spits Dean.

“You? No, it’s Crowley I want dead.”

“Well, you’re too late there” says Dean. “That little limey mook roasted months ago.”

Eve smiles at them, “Crowley’s alive. I see his face through the eyes of every child he strings up and skins. He’s been torturing my children, and you boys don’t even know why, do you?”

“He wants Purgatory right?” Dean answers. “Location, location, location.”

“Is that what he told you? No, It’s about the souls.”

“What about them?” asks Sam.

“They’re power, you simple little monkeys. Each soul a beautiful little nuclear reactor, add them together and you have the sun. Now think what the King of Hell could do with that vast untapped oil well. Crowley wants to siphon off my supply and torture my children to do it? I don’t think so. So that’s the deal boys, if you bring him to me, I’ll let you live.”

“Not going to happen” says Sam. 

“You seem to be suffering under the delusion that you have any choice in the matter” Eve says. “Bring them in” she raises her voice towards the front of the diner. The door opens and Castiel and Bobby are marched in by another half dozen Jefferson Starships. 

“Well so much for the rescue squad” Dean remarks. 

“You see boys, I really hold all the cards, so either you agree to help me take care of Crowley or I kill your friends.”

Dean glares at her. “For the past few months we’ve been working for an evil dick, we’re not about to sign up with an evil bitch. We don’t work with demons. We don’t work with monsters. So, kill us already.”

Eve looks mildly exasperated at them. “Or, I could just turn you, and you do what I want anyway.” Before the brothers have time to react to the threat, she moves behind them, so fast she’s a blur. She grips Dean by his shoulders and leans in close to his neck. Sam tries to help but is pulled away by two Starships. “Don’t test me” Eve warns, her lips almost at Dean’s throat. 

“Bite me” he dares her, and she does. Dean grimaces as sharp teeth sink into his neck but almost immediately, she pulls away coughing. 

Dean gets up and grins at her triumphantly, with one hand held to his bleeding neck he mimes a drinking motion with the other. “Phoenix ash. One shell’s worth, and one ounce of whiskey, down the hatch.”

Eve glares at him as continues coughing. Blood pours out of her mouth and along with it, some kind of oily black goo. Her skin ripples again and she turns back into the waitress right before collapsing to the ground, dead. 

The Starships seem to take their mother’s death as their cue to attack because all of a sudden, the four of them are fighting off over a dozen snarling monsters. 

“Close your eyes!” Cas yells. Eve’s death must have lifted the block on his powers and as he spins around, light emits from his hands and incinerates the monsters.

“We gotta take you on more monster hunts” Bobby says, admiring the swiftly dispatched monsters. 

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asks.

“Not really.” Dean looks pale and one hand is still clasped to his bloody neck. “I think she turned me into a Jefferson Starship. I don’t suppose you could clear that up too, Cas?”

Castiel whirls to look at him and for a moment something almost like panic breaks through his determined stoicism, but it’s gone before anyone can really notice it. “No, Dean, I can’t. Don’t you think that if it was within the capability of an angel to cure monsters, I would have done that instead of killing them all just now?”

Dean’s face sinks. “Shit.” There’s a long moment of tense silence before Dean speaks again. ‘Well, then I guess you better bring back the glowing. There’s one more monster to kill in here.”

“No!” Sam and Bobby yell at almost the same time. 

“Dean wait” Sam tries to reason with him. “We cured you when you were a vampire; we’ll find a way to fix this too.”

Dean has an argument of the tip of his tongue but before he can give voice to it, pain hits him like a thunderclap and seems to engulf every part of his body. It’s so all consuming that he doesn’t even feel himself slip from the stool onto the linoleum floor. 

“Dean!” Sam yells, running to his brother and grabbing him by the shoulders. “What’s happening to him?” he asks, turning to Castiel. 

“I believe the changes his body is undergoing as part of the turning process are proving too much for him” the angel answers clinically. 

“Can’t you do anything for him?”

“As I said before, I cannot cure him”, Castiel pauses and then applies the surface of his palm to Dean’s forehead, “but I can render him unconscious. For the next few hours he won’t be in any pain and you’ll have some time to decide how you want to proceed. I suggest you exercise caution; Eve’s other Hybrids have all become aggressive immediately on turning. If you decide not to comply with his wishes for death, you’ll need to restrain him for the time being. What happens next is up to you.” 

With one last backward glance Castiel disappears, presumably returning to heaven and his civil war. Bobby and Sam are left stricken in his wake. Without speaking the two of them carry Dean out to the Impala and lie him across the back seat. Sam gets a pair of handcuff’s out of the trunk and locks Dean’s hands behind him. 

“Where should we take him?” Sam wonders aloud. 

Bobby grunts. “Well, the best thing to do would be to keep him in the panic room until we can sort this out, but its more than a full day’s drive to my place. Course we can’t just hole up in a hotel either since we don’t know what we’re going to be dealing with. Rufus had an old cabin in Montana that he hadn’t used in years; If we speed, we can get there in under 24 hours. It’s the best compromise I can come up with right now.”

Sam nods. “Okay then. I’ll drive.”  
* * * 

The trip up to Montana is tense to say the least, with each of the two hunters silently worrying that Dean will wake up before they get there and run them off the road in his panic, or try to eat them, or something else equally unhelpful. Sam breathes a sign of relief when they arrive with Dean still unconscious and almost deathly still. 

The cabin isn’t exactly the lap of luxury, rustic would be the polite word, but its homey and well stocked with canned food. The first thing Sam does upon entering is look for something strong that he can secure Dean to. He finds an exposed support beam and uses some rope to tie down his brother, leaving the handcuffs in place as an additional restraint. Then he pulls a chair over from the kitchen area and sits down facing him. 

“Sam, what are you doing?” Bobby asks exasperatedly. 

“I’m looking out for my brother.”

“Your brother isn’t going anywhere. When was the last time you got some sleep? Two days ago? Three?”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on him in case he wakes up.”

“I know that idjit, and my eyes work just as well as yours. I slept in the car while you were driving and now it’s your turn. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Sam grumbles some more but reluctantly heads off to the cabin’s single bed and plunks his large body down onto it. His sudden weight throws up a small cloud of dust but Sam’s too tired to care.  
* * * 

The next few hours pass with Sam and Bobby taking shifts watching Dean, who still shows no signs of waking up. If Sam couldn’t see his brother breathing, he would have been seriously worried that Cas had killed him instead of just incapacitating him. 

During one of Sam’s shifts Bobby takes off into the woods for a while and he comes back with a rifle tucked under his arm and blood drying on his hands. 

“Where have you been?” Sam asks. 

“Hunting.”

“Hunting? What?” he asks, alarmed.

“Relax. Just deer.”

“Why?”

“Because newly turned monsters tend to be hungry and we still don’t know what it is that Dean’s going to want to eat, but I’d rather it not be us.”

“Oh” says Sam softly. He hadn’t thought of that.  
* * * 

Exactly 24 hours to the second after Castiel knocked him out, Dean wakes up. It happens suddenly; unlike natural sleep there’s no gradual return of awareness, his eyes just snap open and he finds himself face to face with Sam. Dean doesn’t make any attempts to loosen his bindings, instead the two of them just stare at each other until Sam breaks the silence. 

“Hey, Dean. How’re you feeling?” he asks, trying to sound casual. 

“I . . .” Dean starts to say something but then stops himself. “What happened? Where are we?” he asks instead. 

“Cas knocked you out and we drove here. This is one of Rufus’s old hideouts apparently.”

“You were supposed to kill me” Dean says accusingly.

“Dean, you can’t ask me to do that.”

“If not you, then Bobby or Cas. Someone needs to.”

“No. We’ll find a way to fix this, Dean.”

“There is no way to fix this Sam!” Dean yells. His anger is sudden and vicious and marked by the eruption of fangs bursting out of his gums. “If you had just done what I asked, at least I could have died still mostly human, but it’s too late for that now” he says almost petulantly. 

The sudden outburst must have roused Bobby because he enters the room, eyeing Dean warily. “Your fangs . . .” the older hunter muses. 

“Fuck” Dean says, and Sam isn’t sure if it’s because he’s just now realizing that he has fangs or if he’s commenting on their existence in general. 

“They’re not what I expected” Bobby ignores him. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, his curiosity breaking through his sullen anger. 

“The other Hybrids we encountered, their fangs resembled vampires. Yours look more like a werewolf’s.” Acting on a hunch, Bobby circles around behind Dean to where his hands are tied. “Yep, definitely werewolf; the claws match too.” 

Dean growls angrily, then promptly looks surprised when the sound comes out as a literal growl. 

“So, Dean isn’t the same mix as the other starships. Do you think that’s what Eve meant by the third generation?” Sam asks.

“Probably” Bobby agrees.

“Great. We know even less about what kind of freak I’ve turned into than we thought we did. What exactly is your genius plan for fixing this Sam?”

Sam visibly gathers himself into academic mode. “Well, ideally we would have access to Bobby’s library for more research, but since we’re here for now, there are a few things I want to try.”

“Like what?” Bobby asks skeptically and Dean wonders if maybe he isn’t as on board with the whole fixing him thing as Sam is.

“First off, there’s the vampire cure.”

Dean scoffs, “I’m not a va . . .”

“I know you’re not” Sam interrupts, “but if you are even partly, then maybe it will have an affect. It can’t hurt to try.”

“Says you. That stuff tastes disgusting.”

“The cure requires that the new vampire hasn’t fed yet, so I guess we shouldn’t give him anything to eat” Bobby reasons. “Are you feeling hungry Dean?”

Dean looks uncomfortable for a moment before reluctantly nodding. 

Sam and Bobby share a glance. “Well, that’s to be expected really” Sam says awkwardly. “It’s been over a day since you’ve eaten and you probably needed a lot of energy to, um, you know, change. Can you tell what you’re hungry for?”

Dean sighs, “no, not really. When I was a vampire before, I had this really specific craving for blood, but this is more like a general feeling of hunger.”

“Well, best-case scenario, we may never even have to worry about it.”

“When have we ever gotten the best-case scenario?” Dean asks. 

Sam ignores him and presses on. “I collected some of Eve’s blood before we left, since she’s basically your sire, I guess. It shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes to put together the cure.”

Sam struts out of the room, taking his fragile bubble of optimism with him and Dean leans his head back and closes his eyes, wishing he could shut out all of his senses so easily, so that he wouldn’t have to hear his family’s heartbeats or smell the mold in the walls. Plus, there’s another one, a sense he can’t identify and thinks might be entirely new. It manifests as a sour feeling coming from Sam and Bobby and he’s not sure how to interpret it, but it almost makes him feel nauseous enough to forget the hunger gnawing in his gut. 

That’s another problem: the hunger. Dean hasn’t felt this starved since he was a little kid and sometimes had to go a few days between meals if Dad took too long to get home. It should be a good thing that it just feels like normal hunger instead of a craving for blood, or hearts, or brains, but not knowing what his body wants only increases his anxiety, because as much as he might wish it, Dean doubts that burgers and pie are going to do it for him anymore. 

He’s still brooding on all of this half an hour later when Sam returns holding a glass filled with a truly noxious looking (and smelling) substance. 

“Here you go, Dean.” Sam holds the glass up to Dean’s mouth, apparently still not wanting to untie his hands. “Ready?” he asks. 

Dean nods and opens his mouth and Sam tips the vampire cure into his mouth. It’s just as bad as Dean remembers and he thinks that if it weren’t for Sam literally pouring it down his throat, he probably wouldn’t be able to get it all down. Sam backs off the second it’s all in, which is a good thing, since he narrowly avoids getting puked on, as it is Dean manages to get most of it in the bowl that Sam holds out for him. The potion provokes the same response from Dean’s stomach as it did the first time around, but Dean can tell that this time it’s only the cure itself that he’s throwing up and not the gross black blood that came out of him before. 

Sam waits until Dean’s stomach has settled and he’s caught his breath before asking Dean hopefully, “anything?”

Dean shakes his head wearily and the feeling he’s getting from Sam turns even sourer. Still, Sam barely allows himself anytime to be disappointed before bouncing back again. “We’ll just have to do more research. Bobby, we need to get to your library.”

Bobby, always practical, is thinking of the logistics of such a trip. “If we’re going to move again, we’re going to need to untie Dean, and if we’re going to do that, it’d probably be safer to feed him first.”

Sam shakes his head. “We can’t do that. What if we find another cure and it has the same restrictions as the vampire one?”

“Look, Sam. None of us want to think that Dean might hurt us but if you’re going to keep a pet tiger around, you’d better keep it well fed.” He turns to Dean, “sorry, kid” he says, apologizing for the metaphor. 

Dean’s barely paying attention; all this talk of eating has stomach feeling hopeful and his brain filled with a sense of dread. 

“So, what? You’re just going to give him a dead deer and see what happens?”

Dean tunes back in. “A dead deer?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Except I’m not going to drag the carcass in here and get blood all over the place. So, you’re going to untie him while I keep my gun ready.”

Hesitantly, Sam starts to undo Dean from the post while Bobby keeps his handgun trained on him. Dean’s hands are still tied behind his back and Sam has to help him to his feet, but Dean is pleased to find that he doesn’t feel any sudden urges to attack anyone.

They march him outside to the shed, where sure enough, a freshly killed doe is lying out on the workbench. Bobby hasn’t done anything to the animal other than kill it and every bit of fur and viscera is still present and accounted for. Dean knows he should be repulsed but instead the smell of fresh meat and blood is disturbingly enticing. 

Once they’re close enough, Sam uncuffs him and Dean closes in on his meal. Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s picked up the head of the deer and taken a large bite out of the back of its neck. His new fangs crunch through fur and bone like it’s breakfast cereal and blood runs down his chin like fresh milk. He keeps going and when the hunger finally abates, he looks down to find that the head, neck, and one foreleg of the deer are entirely gone. There’s blood on his face, blood on his hands, and he thinks there’s some fur stuck in his teeth. 

Dean doesn’t want to turn around to face Sam and Bobby again. He can’t bear to have them see the monster he’s become, but apparently, they’ve noticed that he’s finished because the next moment he feels an oversized hand on his shoulder that he knows belongs to his brother. 

“Dude, that was really gross. You feeling any better?”

“Yeah” Dean replies shakily. 

They get him cleaned up, get him a new shirt, and re-cuff his hands, in front of him this time.  
* * * 

They make their second tension filled extended car trip of the last few days with Sam and Bobby switching back and forth between driving and watching Dean. Dean himself, grumbles a little about other people driving his baby but doesn’t show any particular monster-like behaviour. They don’t bother to stop for meals, not wanting to expose Dean to the outside world yet, but instead pick up some burgers from a drive-thru. Dean decides its an excellent opportunity to see if his new monster constitution can stomach a burger like it can gross raw deer and insists on them getting him one as well. 

The answer to that question turns out to be no, and twenty minutes after chocking down a cheeseburger and insisting that the lettuce only tasted a little like asphalt, Dean is throwing up for the second time in not enough hours. Sam stands at his brother’s side as he heaves into the ditch at the side of the road and silently renews his vow to fix this. 

When they get back on the road, Dean is slumped down in the passenger seat, looking miserable, Sam is driving, and Bobby is in the back keeping an eye out. “Why do you think she lied to us?” Dean asks, breaking the pall of quiet moodiness that had settled over the group. 

“Who?” asks Sam. 

“Eve. When she said that Crowley was still alive. We know he’s not. Cas lit up his bones, we all saw them burn.”

“Unless he made a mistake” Bobby suggests.

“No, she was probably just messing with us” Dean says before lapsing back into silence.  
* * * 

They make it to Bobby’s house without incident and Sam finds himself almost relaxing. The fact that Dean hasn’t showed any signs of aggression so far, seems very promising, and now that they finally have the proper resources maybe they can put this behind them for good. Dean however, still insists on them locking him in the panic room although they decide to forgo any other restraints. 

Sam gets straight to work looking through books and by the time Bobby calls a break for dinner, he’s amassed an impressive pile of notes. As the two of them eat their spaghetti, Bobby renews the topic of conversation from earlier. 

“Sam, I hate to bring this up; we’ve all got enough to deal with right now, but I’m not as convinced as Dean that Eve was lying about Crowley. She had no reason to that I can think of.”

“So, you really think Cas could have made a mistake?”

“Either that or he’s the one who’s lying.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but something about this whole thing doesn’t smell right.”

“I’m sorry Bobby, but I think we should focus on the problem we have right now instead of looking for more." 

A few minutes later, when Sam heads down to bring him his dinner, he finds Dean pacing around angrily. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” he asks.

“Bobby. Where does he get off accusing Cas like that? The guy has saved our bacon more times than we can count, and now Bobby wants to trust the evil monster bitch over him?”

“Wait, you could hear that?”

Dean sighs, “yes Sam, I could hear it. All of my senses seem to be jacked up, like when I was a vampire.”

Sam swallows uncomfortably, “I wouldn’t sweat it Dean. You know what Bobby’s like, he’s not happy unless he’s worrying about something. Here, I brought you something to eat” he says, trying to placate his brother with food. 

Dean glares at the plate of raw ground beef before taking it from him. 

“It’s funny, after all those years of acting like you’re allergic to vegetables, now you actually are” Sam laughs awkwardly, trying to relieve the tension. 

“Was there anything else Sam?” Dean asks harshly. 

“No.”

“Then leave me alone.” 

Sam’s face morphs into its wounded puppy dog mode before he turns and walks out of the panic room. As soon as he’s gone, Dean starts to devour the raw meat, glad at least that this time Sam isn’t there to see him do it.  
* * * 

Sam is awoken from sleep that night by a muffled yell coming from downstairs. He roles out of bed, instantly alert and listens carefully before moving but he doesn’t hear anything else. He grabs his gun and goes to investigate, stopping outside Bobby’s door first and being reassured by the sound of the older man’s snoring, he makes his way downstairs. When he encounters no intruders on the main floor of the house, he goes downstairs to check on Dean. 

Sam heaves open the heavy iron door of the panic room to find his brother sitting cross-legged on the floor. He’s panting heavily and holding what looks like two sticks in his lap, but when Sam looks more closely, he sees that they aren’t sticks, but grey spikes, and Dean is only holding one of them, the other is sticking out of the base of his hand. 

“They’re wraith spikes” Dean says by way of explanation. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about how angry I was about everything, and they just popped out. I managed to rip this one out” he says, throwing the severed spike across the room, “but it hurt like a bitch. I’m sorry I woke you.” 

Apparently done talking, Dean grips the second spike by its base and prepares to pull.

“Wait, Dean stop!”

“Why?” Dean asks, genuinely puzzled. 

“Because you’re hurting yourself for no reason. If they’re wraith spikes, they’ll just grow back anyway. And . . . just stop.”

“Well, I can’t just go around with spikes coming out of my hands.”

“They’re retractable; you have to pull them back in.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“just concentrate.”

“Concentrate. So helpful. Why didn’t I think of that?” Dean says, his usual snark containing a hint of hysteria that is probably only detectable to Sam. 

Sam sits down cross-legged on the floor across from Dean and takes a hold of the hand that still has its intact spike. Dean tries to jerk it away from him, but Sam holds onto it, palm up, spread between them. “Dean, you need to calm down. It’s your body, you control it. Just focus.”

Dean visibly slows his breathing and nods. Sam continues to hold onto his hand and after a few moments the spike starts to slowly retract back into his brother’s wrist. “There we go. No problem. Now, we should probably both go back to bed.”

“Yeah, thanks Sammy.”

“Goodnight Dean.” Sam gets up and moves towards the door of the panic room, stopping to pick up Dean’s discarded spike on his way out.  
* * * 

“So, what was all that commotion last night?” Bobby asks the next morning and Sam thinks he should have known better than to think the old hunter would sleep through it. 

“Apparently, Dean has wraith spikes” Sam answered, showing Bobby the boney spine he had retrieved from the floor, “and he isn’t happy about it.”

“Pulled it out, did he?” Bobby says examining it. 

“Yeah” says Sam, taking it back from him. “I thought I might examine . . .oww.” Sam breaks off as he nicks his hand on the tip of the spike. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just a scratch. This thing is sharp.” Sam flexes his fingers to prove to Bobby that he’s fine but is alarmed to find that his movements feel slow and awkward, like his hand is falling asleep. “Bobby, something’s wrong.”

“What is it?”

“My fingers”, Sam flexes again and finds the problem has progressed in just the last few seconds. “my fingers won’t move.”

Bobby looks alarmed and grabs Sam’s hand in an echo of Sam and Dean the night before. “Can you feel that?” asks Bobby, rubbing the hand. 

“I can feel normally; I just can’t move it.”

Bobby picks up the spike again, much more gingerly than before. “Wraith spikes don’t normally have any kind of venom” he muses. 

“Sam. Bobby.” They both jump slightly at the deep voice which seems to come out of nowhere behind them and turn around to find Castiel standing in the kitchen with perfect posture. 

“Cas! What are you doing here?”

Cas looks puzzled at their surprise. “I came to see how you were doing following Dean’s transformation. Is everyone well?”

“No, of course everyone isn’t well. Dean’s locked in the panic room, Bobby thinks Crowley might still be alive, and I can’t move my left hand.”

Cas gives Sam his trademark quizzical stare before reaching out and grasping his shoulder. Movement instantly returns to Sam’s frozen extremity. 

“You were infected with vetala venom. You are fortunate I arrived when I did, or the toxin would have spread up your arm to the rest of your body. Did the venom come from Dean?”

“It came from this” Bobby says handing Castiel the spike. 

“Interesting. A wraith spike that is secreting vetala venom. Eve really was getting creative in her experiments. How is Dean faring?”

“He’s been better, but I’ve got some interesting references to look up today. It’s only a matter of time before I find something.”

“Sam, I fear your confidence in this matter may be misplaced. Perhaps, if I had more power” he says regretfully. “I observe that you have him contained; has he been aggressive?”

“No, it’s odd. Before when we came across the starships they attacked right away.”

“I would theorize that those previous encounters were fueled by Eve’s influence. In fact, in the future, you may even find that monsters in general are less violent following her death.”

“That sounds nice” says Sam.

“It sounds complicated” says Bobby. “I’m used to just killing a monster without having to worry about weather it’s vegetarian or not.”

“As for your other worry, that of Crowley being alive, I can assure you he is not. I suggest you put aside Eve’s attempts to deceive you and focus on rehabilitating Dean.”

“Thank you, Cas, and thanks for fixing my hand.”

“You are welcome. I must go now, the war against Raphael requires my continual attention.” There’s a flutter of wings and Castiel disappears. 

“Well that was lucky timing” Sam says, after he’s gone. 

“Was it?" Asks Bobby. "Personally, I think it was suspicious timing. It’s almost like he’s been keeping an eye on us.”  
* * * 

Sam spends the rest of the week buried in books and becoming increasingly frustrated. There’s nothing. Nothing on what Dean is and nothing on how to get him back to what he was. Sam has combed through books of magic and mythology, looking for some spell, looking for anything, but he hasn’t found it. 

One early morning, he throws his book against the wall and rubs his pounding head, steeling himself to go visit his brother. When he finally does descend into the basement, he can feel the beginnings of tears sparking in his eyes. He walks into the panic room and leaves the door open behind him. Dean takes one look at him and seems to understand what he’s going to say.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I promised I’d fix this for you, and I failed.”

Dean pulls him into a hug and to Sam’s dismay starts to comfort him. “it’s okay Sammy.” They take a step back and Dean notices the open door. “You’re letting me out?”

“Well, we can’t keep you locked up in here forever.” Dean eyes the open door warily. “It’s okay Dean, you’re not going to hurt anyone.”

“I didn’t even need to be in the same room to hurt you a few days ago.”

“That was an accident and it won’t happen again.” A hint of a gleam comes into Sam’s eyes as he goes back into academic mode. “the work doesn’t end here, Dean. We need to figure out what you are now and what you can do.” The gleam fades again, “unless you’re going to ask me to kill you again?”

“As unfun as it sounds, being your latest science experiment, no, I’m not going to ask that.”

“Good. Then let’s get out of here.” Dean follows his brother out of the panic room and up into the sunlight.


	2. Find Your Way Back

Dean was right, being Sam’s science project isn’t much fun. Sam starts off first thing the next morning with an interrogation. 

“Okay, so I’ve been thinking we should make a list of all of your different characteristics, so we know exactly which, ummm, beings you’re a hybrid of.”

“You can say the M word Sam, I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, you just have some monster-like traits.”

“Then just call them that and let’s get on with it.”

Sam huffs, “fine then. So far, we know you have fangs and claws that resemble a werewolf, enhanced senses which are pretty common among monsters, and wraith spikes that secrete vetala venom. Is there anything else you’ve noticed?”

“I have an extra sense.”

“What, really? What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what does it feel like.”

“I don’t know Sammy. I can’t describe a sense to you that you don’t have.”

Sam sighs heavily, “fine then, what does it tell you?”

“I just get this sense around people. I think it has to do with what they’re feeling.”

“So, you can tell what people are feeling?”

“Not really, like I said, I get this sense from people. With you, I noticed it changes depending on whether you were worried or sad or whatever, but I haven’t really got it figured out what means what yet.”

“Interesting. It sounds like you might be empathic, but we’d have to get you interacting with more people to be sure. I wonder which species that comes from? A Djinn maybe, or a Siren?” Dean stares blankly at him from his position on Bobby’s worn sofa. “Fine, we’ll come back to that. But I wonder if the other Jefferson Starships had that ability.”

“We’re not calling me that.”

“What?”

“You can call me a monster all you want but I refuse to be named after a sucky band like Jefferson Starship.”

“You came up with it” Sam laughs at him.

“I don’t care. We’re calling us hybrids now.”

“Fine. So, I was thinking, those spikes, they’re a pretty dangerous weapon, you should probably practice with them if you don’t want them popping out again next time something pisses you off.”

Dean sighs melodramatically and then closes his eyes. He rests the backs of his hands on his knees like he’s doing some kind of meditation. Two grey spikes slowly protrude from the bases of his wrists. Once they’re fully extended Dean can see that one is slightly shorter than the other, like it’s still growing back from when he pulled it out. 

“Good. Now try retracting them.” Dean does so much faster than he had a few nights previously. 

“Okay, now show me your claws.”

“What?”

“You’ve got to practice with all of your weapons.”

It takes Dean several minutes to get his claws to come out and several more to get them back in, but they practice until it gets smoother. “What’s the point of having the claws and the spikes?” Dean asks at one point. “Doesn’t that seem redundant?”

After that they practice the same thing with his fangs. “Well these I’m definitely never using” Dean says.

“Why not?”

“Because if I bite someone, I might accidently turn them.”

“Oh right” agrees Sam. It had barely occurred to him that Dean would be able to create more hybrids.

The rest of the morning is spent with Sam running Dean through various drills, getting him to extend then retract his spikes, claws, and fangs, one after another, then all three at once, then just two out of the three. By noon, he’s mastered it pretty well and they’re both ready for a break.

Bobby reappears from wherever he’s been working on his own project and the three of them have lunch, which for Sam and Bobby is sandwiches and for Dean is uncooked chicken wings that get eaten bones and all. 

After lunch, it’s more drills, with Sam testing Dean’s strength and speed, both of which have increased substantially. At Dean’s insistence, they also test his weaknesses too. Sam takes a silver knife from their collection and holds the flat of its blade to Dean’s bare arm. The skin sizzles and pops beneath the blade and when after thirty seconds, Dean hisses in pain, Sam pulls it away. 

Sam also looks at Dean through his cell phone camera and confirms that he has the typical shapeshifter retinal flare. “We know that the other Hybrids could shapeshift, so it seems likely that you can too.”

“I’m not doing that Sammy.”

“Why not.”

“A bunch of reasons. First off, why would I want to look like someone else when I’m me.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Secondly, shapeshifters have to shed their skin and it’s totally gross.”

“It could be useful. Besides, if you learn how to do it there’s less chance of it happening by accident, like with the spikes.”

Dean looks horrified at the idea that he could accidentally turn into another person and while Sam actually doubts it would happen, he’s hoping the possibility will motivate Dean to practice. Eventually that is, right now Sam thinks they’ve covered enough for one day. 

***

For the second time that week, Sam is woken from sleep in the middle of the night by a shout coming from the basement. Only this time, Dean is in the bed across from him, rubbing his eyes, having just been woken up himself. 

“What was that?” Sam asks, mostly intending it to be rhetorical. 

“It sounds like Bobby has someone in the panic room” Dean says, and Sam remembers that he has super hearing now.

Sure enough when the two of them head downstairs, they find Bobby splashing holy water on a demon tied up in the centre of the devil’s trap that makes up the floor of the panic room. 

“Bobby, why do you have a demon in your basement?” Dean asks casually. 

“Well you weren’t using it anymore” the older hunter answers gruffly. 

“Bobby?” Sam prods.

“Fine, I summoned it here so I could get some answers about Crowley.”

“I thought we covered this already,” Dean says, “he’s dead.”

“Yeah, well I’m not so sure. I’ve been putting out some feelers. Turns out, monsters are dying all over the country. Someone’s been killing them, except it ain’t any hunters I know, and I know everyone. Crowley’s little war on purgatory is still going strong. These are demons doing the killing, demons like our friend here, and if the soldiers are still marching, then the general must be giving orders.” Bobby turns and addresses the demon, “ain’t that right?” 

“Read the papers redneck” the unnamed Demon replies, “the King is dead.”

Bobby waves the demon killing knife menacingly in front of his victim. “Where’s Crowley?” The demon studiously ignores him. “Nothing? OK then, hang onto this for me for a bit” and with that Bobby plunges the knife down into its arm.

After the screaming dies down the demon manages to choke out “okay, he’s alive. Crowley’s alive.”

There’s a moment of silence from the three hunters as they contemplate the implications of this most unwelcome confirmation.

“Where is he then?” Bobby starts back up again.

“I don’t know. I don’t know where he is. I’m not important enough to deal with him directly; I’ve never even met him.”

“Well then, I guess you’re not very useful, are you?” Bobby pulls the demon killing knife from where it’s still lodged in the Demon’s arm and stabs it through his chest instead. There’s a flickering of orange light and their unwilling informant is gone. 

“You really think Cas lied to us?” Sam asks. “He’s our friend.”

“I don’t know. Look, I hate myself for even thinking it, but I don’t know, and if there’s even the slightest chance he’s betrayed us, that means we’re dealing with a Superman who’s gone dark side. Which means we’ve gotta be cautious, we’ve gotta be smart, and maybe stock up on some kryptonite.”

“So, what now?” asks Sam.”

“We call Cas” says Dean.

“What?”

“This is usually the point at which we would call Cas for help.”

“Dean we talked about this” argues Bobby.

“No, you talked, I listened. I mean come on guys; this is Cas. When there was no one and we were stuck, really stuck, he broke ranks. He has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times. Don’t we owe him the benefit of the doubt?”

Sam nods at him before beginning to pray. “Castiel, this is really important. We really need to talk to you.” Nothing happens. “Maybe you should try Dean.”

“Me? We don’t even know if angels can here prayers from people who . . .um . . . aren’t human.”

“Just give it a try.”

Dean closes his eyes. “Castiel, come on man, we really need you.” Still nothing. 

A few hours later, the three of them are sitting forlornly at Bobby’s kitchen table, sipping beer. They’ve tried everything to reach their friend for answers, up to and including a summoning ritual that apparently hadn’t worked. 

“It doesn’t make any sense” Sam complains. “He showed up the other day just to check in on us and now he’s completely unreachable.”

“He showed up because you were in trouble Sam, I told you, he’s been keeping an eye on us.”

“Well what are we supposed to do then?” asks Dean, now looking like Dean again. “Sit around and just hope Crowley never finds the door to Purgatory and unleashes a horde of monsters on us?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t know.”

***

Dean had thought that given the events of the previous night, Sam would have been inclined to focus on things other than his “training” however he woke that morning to discover that he was severely mistaken. He had barely finished his breakfast (a raw porkchop) before his brother was demanding that they start work developing his new skills. 

“Seriously Sam, don’t you think we have more important things to worry about?”

“We have other things to worry about, sure, but I’m not sure they’re more important, and even if they are, we can’t do anything about it right now. We have to deal with what we can deal with, Dean.”

Dean grudgingly follows him to the living room and takes a seat on the couch. “So, what are we working on today Yoda?” 

“Shapeshifting.”

“No, Sam. I already told you, no way. It’s disgusting.”

“and it could be incredibly useful. Just think of how much easier it would be to get into crime scenes and restricted areas. You’d be like the ultimate spy” Sam says knowing it never hurts to appeal to Dean’s childish side a little.

“We don’t even know if I can do it” Dean grumbles. 

“Have you tried?”

“No.”

“Well then that’s where we start. Just think about turning into someone and we’ll see what happens.”

Reluctantly Dean closes his eyes and tries to focus on the person he’s decided to shift into. 

“Feel anything?” Sam asks. 

“No” Dean says giving up and opening his eyes. “This is stupid, we should be looking for Cas.” He scratches absently at his arm, which has started to itch for some reason, and feels the skin give underneath his nails. He looks down to find a large chunk of his skin sloughing off his arm like wet tissue paper. He pulls at the piece like it’s an extra-large hangnail and more comes off.

“Sammy?”

“What?” Sam asks looking up at him. Dean lifts his arm for him to see. “It’s working” Sam says excitedly, “here let me see.” He moves across the room and gently grabs hold of Dean’s arm. More dermis comes off underneath his fingers and Dean’s entire forearm now seems to have taken on the appearance of melted wax. 

“Sam, leave it alone” Dean says, trying to pull his arm away.

“No, Dean. It needs to come off. Let me help you.”

“It’s not supposed to come off, it’s my skin. Let go.”

“Dean don’t freak out; this is what’s supposed to happen. You just need to help it along a little.” Sam rubs lightly higher up on Dean’s arm and the skin there starts to break apart as well. 

“Stop it!” Sam hears a yell and then finds himself flying backwards across the room. He hits the far wall and blacks out. 

Dean runs up the stairs and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door. Trying not to panic, he strips off his clothes so he can see what’s going on and finds his skin coming away with them. His entire body is on fire with a sensation that’s halfway between pain and itch. He starts to scratch everywhere he can reach and soon the gooey remains of his skin starts to pile up around him. At the same time, he thinks he can feel his bones shifting inside of him, growing longer in some places and shorter in others. He grabs ahold of his hair and pulls away most of his scalp in a single piece and with it comes one of his ears. That’s when he realizes that it’s not just his skin falling off, but everything not tethered down by bone. He feels his penis start to pull off of him and when it falls to the tiles with a splat, he can’t hold back a scream. His lips and teeth are already gone, and the scream emits from the bloody hole that is now his mouth, sounding about as far from human as it is possible to get. 

***

When it’s over, he’s left panting on the bathroom floor, grateful at least that his lungs are still present and working. He wonders, with morbid curiosity what he looks like now, he’s seen skinned corpses before, and thinks it must be something like that, but he can’t bring himself to look up into the mirror. Gradually, he becomes aware of another sensation spreading over him, a kind of ticklish feeling, and when he opens his eyes (which have blessedly chosen to remain in his skull) he sees new skin forming over exposed muscle. 

It’s a slightly darker shade and lacking in freckles, but he’s still grateful to see it. He feels the other parts of himself reforming as well, and eventually manages to pull himself to a stand and look in the mirror. The person staring back at him has dark hair much longer than he’s used to and brown eyes. He stares for a moment until he feels something niggling at the back of his brain, something he’s forgotten. Did he do something? Suddenly he remembers pushing Sammy away from him in his panic. He rushes downstairs, pausing to throw on some clothes, and almost tripping over the hem of his jeans which are now to long.  
He runs down the stairs to see Sam spread out on the couch, talking to Bobby who apparently got to him first. “Sam, are you alright?” he asks in a panic.

“Who are you?” Bobby barks at him.

“Bobby, relax, it’s just Dean.” His brother turns at looks at him “right?”

“Yeah, Sammy it’s me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I only blacked out for a couple of seconds. I’ve got a headache, but no concussion, I think.”

“Sam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing, I was in a panic and I just meant to push you away but I . . .”

“It’s okay Dean” Sam cuts him off. “You don’t know your own strength. I know it was an accident, besides, I never should have pushed you like that.”

Bobby, who’s been staring at Dean silently throughout this, finally decides to break up the chick-flick moment. “Who are you supposed to be exactly?”

“He’s Jimmy Page” Sam answers for him. “Aren’t you?”

“Umm yeah. “Not sure why I thought that was a good idea.” Dean flicks his curly mane over his shoulder “this much hair is ridiculous.” 

“Don’t most shifters usually turn into someone around them, or at least someone they’ve met?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah, well the only people around are you and Sam and I sure as hell ain’t turning into either of you. Besides, I didn’t really think it would work.”

Bobby whistles. “That’s a darn useful skill you’ve picked up there, boy.” 

“Doesn’t matter. It sucked and I’m never doing it again.”

“Really?” Sam laughs as he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the couch. “Just going to stay like that forever then?”

“Okay fine, I’m doing it once more and then I’m never doing it again.”

“Shame” says Bobby. “An ability like that could solve a lot of problems.”

***

Dean gets up late that night and is careful not to wake his brother. Quietly as he can he reaches into the drawer of his nightstand and gets out his gun. They had never had a formal discussion about it but ever since their encounter with Eve, Dean had stopped carrying a weapon or sleeping with one. The hunter part of his brain was still waiting for the monster part to take over and become dangerous and he didn’t want to make it any easier for the monster to hurt anyone when it did. Today’s incident had only increased those fears. Dean knew that Sam had forgiven him for pushing him into the wall, but he was still a long way off from forgiving himself. He had lost control and that was unacceptable. 

At least now he’s back to looking like himself again he thinks as he loads the gun with silver bullets. The second transformation had been just as painful and horrifying as the first and now that he’s himself again, he knows that there’s not going to be a third anytime soon. He takes the weapon, carefully slips out of the room he shares with Sam, and heads down to the panic room. 

He’s prepared everything ahead of time and now there’s nothing left to do but say one last goodbye. “Castiel, I just wanted you to know before it’s all over, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for us buddy. You’ve saved us all so many times and I’m sorry it has to end this way.” With one hand Dean nervously fingers the box in his pocket and with the other he slowly raises the gun until the muzzle is resting against his temple. 

“Dean, no!” a deep voice suddenly rings out and the weapon is pulled from his hand. Castiel throws it across the room and turns to glare at Dean with all his righteous fury. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You came.”

“Of course I came. You think after all the effort I’ve gone to to keep you alive, I’m just going to let you kill yourself?”

Dean takes a step back. “Cas, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just . . .” The angel breaks off as Dean drops a match and the floor ignites in a circle around him. 

“What is this?”

“I’m sorry man, but we need to talk, and I couldn’t think of any other way to get your attention.”

“This was a trap?” Cas rages. 

“You came before when Sam was in trouble so I thought that if I was in trouble you might come again. Like I said, we just need to talk. We know that you lied to us about Crowley, Cas, but we don’t know why. I just need you to explain so we can get on with hunting the bastard.”

“I had my reasons for not killing him, Dean. Just let me go.”

“I don’t think so. Sam! Bobby!” Dean calls for the others and waits for them to make their way downstairs.

“Cas? Dean, how did you get him here?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he just confessed to letting Crowley go. Cas, please” he turns to look at the angel, “just look me in the eye and tell me you’re not working with that bastard.”

Castiel looks down at the floor in shame and says nothing. 

“Son of a bitch. You and Crowley, you’ve been going after Purgatory together. This whole time!”

“I did it to protect you. I did it to protect all of you.” He looks around wildly as if begging Sam or Bobby to speak out and defend him, not knowing he’s just alienated his last defender. 

“Protect us how?” asks Sam. “By opening a hole into monster land?”

“He’s right Cas” agrees Bobby. “One drop got through and it was Eve, and look at what happened. Now you want to break down the entire dam?” 

“To get the souls so I can stop Raphael. Please, I need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” scoffs Sam. “How in the Hell are we supposed to trust you now?”

“I’m still me. I’m still your friend. And Sam, I’m the one who raised you from Hell.” 

They all stop for a moment at that news before Sam sneers at him. “Well, no offence, but you did a pretty piss poor job of it. Did you bring me back soulless on purpose?”

“No, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was trying to save you” Cas insists. 

“And Dean, did you mean for him to get turned into a monster?”

“Of course not! Just listen, Raphael will kill us all. He’ll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice.”

“Oh, you had a choice” Dean finally speaks up again, “you just made the wrong one.”

“You don’t understand. It’s complicated.”

“No, it’s not and you knew that" Dean insists. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it. Like we always have. What we don’t do is go out and make another deal with the devil.”

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?”

“I was there. You should have come to us.”

“Maybe, but it’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not Cas, we can fix this.”

“Dean, it’s not broken. Why can’t any of you see that I’m doing this for you? Once I’m powerful enough to defeat Raphael, we’ll never have to worry again. I should even be powerful enough to make you human again Dean, then you can go back to your life with Ben and Lisa. And Sam, you could go back to school. You could finally have the lives you deserve.”

If Dean was tempted for a moment, no one could have blamed him. He was sick of feeling like his own body had become the enemy, some kind of foreign entity with needs and desires that he doesn’t recognize anymore. It would have been perfectly normal to be tempted, but he isn’t. “Has Crowley figured out how to open Purgatory yet?” Dean demands, switching to interrogation mode. 

“No, Crowley was hoping that Eve would be the key. He was quite perturbed by her death.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he was” Bobby scoffs. 

“He wanted to have all of you killed. You are fortunate that I managed to convince him that you were too much otherwise occupied to cause any future interference.”

“That gives us some time at least” Sam muses, “Assuming he’s not lying to us again. Dean, can you tell anything?”

“No, I can’t feel anything from him.”

“Then we’ll just have to hope that we can find Crowley before he can find a way into Purgatory. I don’t suppose you feel like telling us where he is?”

“Of course not. Going after him is a suicide mission. You need to stay out of this.”

“You know that’s not going to happen Cas, and until you can get your head on straight, we can’t trust you either. So, settle in; you’re going to be here a while.” With that Dean turns and walks out of the panic room, leaving Castiel in his fiery prison. The others follow.


	3. Miracles

Dean drops the match into the bowel of herbs and the brief flare of flame is accompanied by the shattering of several light bulbs strung around the salvage yard. The three hunters look around expectantly for the being they’ve summoned.

“I’m sorry boys, do I look like a manservant to you?” Balthazar calls to them from where he stands on top of a rusted-out mustang. “No? Then quit ringing for me.”

“This is important Balthazar.”

“I was drinking a ’75 Don out of a soprano’s navel when you called for me. That was important. If this has something to do with Dean’s extreme makeover, I’m not interested.”

“Crowley’s alive and Cas is working with him” drops Sam. 

“Excuse me?” Balthazar steps down from the car, his smugness suddenly vanishing. 

“Handshake deal” Sam explains, “go halvsies on all the souls of Purgatory.”

“And why do you two think that I would care about this?” Balthazar asks clearly trying to recover. 

“Because maybe there’s a shred of decency under this snarky crap” says Dean. “Innocent people are at stake and we are asking for your help.”

Balthazar seems to pause to consider this for a moment. “I see” he says before vanishing. 

Dean growls in frustration, literally growls, and Sam casts a concerned glance at him as the three head back inside. 

***

Bobby wakes up the next morning to the sound of screams coming from his barn. He trudges downstairs to find Sam in the kitchen pouring himself some coffee.

“Sam? What’s that racket going on out there?” he asked. 

“It’s Dean. He’s hoping we can find out where Crowley is by interrogating his henchmen.”

“He summoned a demon into my barn?”

“Well the basement was occupied.”

“Idjit. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I tried that already.”

“Yeah, I think he needed to work out some things” says Sam. “I should probably go check on him” he adds, walking out the door, coffee mug in hand. 

As Sam walks through the scrap yard towards the barn the screaming starts up again and he enters to find Dean slicing into a demon with and iron knife. 

“Any progress?” Sam asks.

“Nothing yet” Dean says, lowering the knife and walking over to them. “That’s the problem with summoning random low-level demons, none of them are particularly in the loop, but eventually I’ll find someone who knows something.”

“And do you really think It’s a good idea to take up torturing again, especially now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean Sam?”

“Just that we need to be careful. Have you had anything to eat today?”

“I had a pork chop earlier” Dean grumbles.

“Look man, it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Relax Sam, if I feel the urge to start gnawing on the prisoners, I’ll let you know.”

With that, Dean grabs Sam’s coffee from him and gulps down the last of it. They had discovered that even though normal food made him sick, most liquids seemed to be okay. “At least I’ve still got coffee” Dean says over his shoulder as he walks back into the devil’s circle. 

“I don’t know anything” the demon pleads. 

“We’ll see” Dean says and Sam gasps as he projects a long grey spine from his wrist and drives it into the demon’s shoulder. 

The demon screams for a solid thirty seconds before switching to exhausted panting. “What the Hell?” it gasps “I thought the Winchesters were supposed to be human.”

“You couldn’t tell?” Sam questions from across the room but neither of them seems to hear him. He watches for a few moments more before turning and leaving. 

***

By the time evening comes, Dean has made his way through half a dozen demons with no progress before Sam finally manages to convince him to stop the pointless violence. Right now, Crowley doesn’t know that they’re after him but if his grunts keep disappearing, he’s going to notice something is up and they’ll lose one of their few advantages. Wearily, Sam walks into the kitchen and pours himself a drink. A drink he very nearly drops when he turns around to find an angel in a very deep V-neck standing behind him. 

“Drinking your feelings Sam?” Balthazar asks. “I thought that was your brother’s bag.”

Sam raises the glass in mock salute. “Stressful times.”

“We need to talk.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve spoken to Castiel and he confirmed what you told me.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice when you summoned me that you had an angel locked up in your little panic room. Really Sam, that was sloppy. I could have just flown down there and let him out. Luckily for you I insisted he answer some questions first. He thought that he could get me on his side and so he told me all about his little plan to open Purgatory.”

“And?” Sam probes. 

“And I know I’m going to live to regret this, but I’m officially on your team. You bastards.”

A few minutes later, Dean and Bobby have joined them and the four of them are gathered in the living room. 

“And we should believe you why?” Dean asks.

“Would you believe I have a shred of decency?” Balthazar replies.

“No” says Sam.

“Aww that hurts. No, you’re right. It’s survival. You see I asked Cas some questions and I didn’t much like the answers. He seems awfully sure of himself for a man who wants to swallow a million nuclear reactors. I mean, these things can get a bit Chernobyl, you know? So voila, consider me your new angelic savior. Here to rescue you from wallowing in stagnation as you’ve been doing all day.”

“Can you find Crowley for us?” Dean asks.

“Yes, I should think so. However, if you’re clever plan is to swoop in guns blazing and try to take on his army of Demons, I’m afraid you can count me out of that particular suicide mission. One angel, two humans, and whatever you are aren't going to last very long.”

“Whatever we do, we need to do it soon” Bobby muses. It won’t be long before Crowley notices Cas is missing, and this’ll be one of the first places he looks.” 

“Can’t you just teleport yourself right next to him and stab him or something?” Dean asks Balthazar. “With Crowley gone, Cas will stand down; I know he will.”

“Oh, that’s your brilliant plan is it? Teleport in and stab him. Wherever his secret clubhouse is he almost certainly has warding to prevent that. No boys, I’m afraid the only way we could get anywhere near Crowley is by walking right up to him.” 

“I may have an idea” says Sam, turning to his brother “but you’re not going to like it.” 

***

Crowley looks up from his work as Castiel walked in. “Cas!” he calls out as he wipes the blood off his hands onto a fresh towel. “There you are. I was beginning to think that you’d run into some trouble.”

“The Winchesters heard a rumour that you were not as dead as they previously supposed; it took me some time to convince them of its untruth.”

“I see. Well, it’s a good thing you did. You know what happens to pets that go sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

“I can assure you they will not be a problem. Who is the woman?”

“Oh yes her” Crowley glances down at the body laid out on the table. “You see, while you were off playing with puppies, I was busy here solving this entire thing.”

“Solving?” Castiel asks with a tilt of his head.

“Yes. Turns out this particular specimen was brought through a doorway from Purgatory back in the twenties by H.P. Lovecraft himself. Once I managed to get her singing, she told me all about how to do it.”

“So, you have discovered how to open the way to Purgatory?”

“I have.”

“Are there any particular ingredients that need gathering?”

“Nothing exotic. Just a little blood from a Purgatory native, nothing we don’t have plenty of, and an angel to open the way. We can get started tonight.” 

“I see. How fortunate then that I arrived when I did” Castiel notes suspiciously. 

“Yes, fortunate” Crowley agrees. He waves a piece of paper at the angel. “She gave me the complete ritual for opening and closing the door. All you have to do is stand in the right place and read this out.”  
Castiel examines the paper as he sidles closer to Crowley who is beginning to scrawl on the wall with blood. There’s a flash of silvery light reflected off of metal and Crowley barely notices in time as an angel blade drops from Castiel’s sleeve and comes arcing towards him. The King of Hell blocks desperately and just manages to stop the blade before if pierces his chest. He pushes against the Angel who stumbles back a few steps and the two stand there eyeing each other like boxers in a ring. 

“So, it’s betrayal then is it?” Crowley snarls. “I had hoped for better but I can’t say I’m surprised. You were gone for days holed up with your pet hunters, you think I didn’t suspect that they’d managed to sway you? Fortunately, I was able to make alternate arrangements.”

Castiel lunges at Crowley again but before he can reach him, Crowley yells out “Raphael” and there’s a flash of light as the Archangel breaks straight through the warding to fly to Crowley’s side.

The flash of light must not have gone unnoticed by the hunters waiting outside because Bobby and Moose rush in carrying some kind of spear. Their presence seems barely worth noting however as Raphael immediately raises his hand and sends them crashing against the wall, knocking them unconscious. 

Raphael sneers at the other angel. “I’m willing to admit Castiel, that you came closer to defeating me than I thought you would. I never thought that you would have the guts to ally yourself with King of Hell of all people, but in the end it was your reliance on humans as your friends that brought about your downfall. Now you’ll get to watch as I use your plan to bring about the new world. With all the souls of Purgatory at my disposal I’ll be able to crack open the cage and free my brothers. The apocalypse will finally be fulfilled.” He turns to the demon, “Crowley I believe you had something prepared?”

“That I did.” Crowley snaps his finger and the floor around Castiel bursts into flames, igniting the holy oil that had been waiting there. “Thought I’d borrow a trick from the hunter’s handbook. Afterall, can’t have our guest of honor leaving the party too soon, now can we?”

“Watch closely Castiel. When I am finished we will return home and I will execute you in front of the entire garrison so that they will know that I am the sole ruler of Heaven.”

Castiel watches as they both turn their backs to him to face the freshly painted sigil on the wall. As Raphael begins to chant, he glances nervously to where Sam and Bobby are still knocked out against the opposite wall. He takes a breath to steady himself, and steps through the flame.

***

Three Hours Previously

“It’ll never work.”

“Why not Dean?” Sam asks. “We’ve just said that the only way to take out Crowley would be if we could walk right up to him, so all you need to do is make yourself look like someone who could do that. You just need to shift into Castiel.”

“Even if I do that, I’ll only look like him physically, it’s not like I can just make myself into an angel. You seriously don’t think that Crowley won’t be able to tell the difference?”

“The Demon you were interrogating earlier couldn’t tell that you weren’t human anymore, that’s what gave me the idea.”

“Sam, it’s a far cry from fooling one low-level grunt to fooling the King of Hell” Bobby chimes in. 

“Yes, I’m afraid grumpy old man is most certainly right on this one” agrees Balthazar. “You can’t fool Crowley, not unless I help you.”

“Help how?” Dean asks suspiciously.

“Well, with the costuming for one thing. I doubt any of you flannel obsessed Neanderthals have an appropriate overcoat lying around and I don’t think Cas is just going to give up his if you ask him nicely. So, while you go do your shapeshifting thing, I’ll make a quick trip to Burberry and pick up a few things. More importantly however, I have Grace. If I stick a tiny bit of it to you then it will appear, to anyone who doesn’t look too closely that it’s your Grace.”

“So, they’ll sense your Grace on him and think he’s an Angel” Sam says getting excited now. “I knew this could work.”

“Well it’s a crapshoot really” Balthazar says cheerily, “but as a plan, it has the advantage that I don’t need to actually come with you, so I’m willing to give it a go.”

“Great” Dean mumbles.

“Well boys, you do your part, I’m off to do mine” Balthazar says before disappearing. 

Still grumbling, Dean retreats to the bathroom and emerges ten minutes later looking exactly like Castiel’s vessel. Sam isn’t sure which is weirder, seeing his brother walking around looking like Cas or seeing Cas in jeans and plaid. 

It takes Balthazar almost two hours to return from running his various errands and from finding Crowley, and when he does he’s carrying several packages. “Here you go” he says, throwing them at Dean, “one trench coat imbued with Angelic Grace. Just consider me your fairy god-mother.” 

Once Dean has changed his clothes, the affect is even more eerie, and Sam knows that he certainly wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his brother and their former friend.

“Now, one more thing before we’re off” says Balthazar. “There is a small chance that Raphael may show up to try and stop Crowley as well. Should this occur, you will almost certainly all die.”

“Gee, thanks” grumbles Bobby. 

“However,” Balthazar continues, “never let it be said that I sent my allies in wholly unprepared, which is why I’m giving you this.” He produces a medieval looking spear and hands it to Sam. “This is the Lance of Michael. It was created by Michael in order to kill Lucifer before he apparently decided mano-a-mano would be more fun. Anyway it’s one of the few weapons that can kill an Archangel and it’s extremely valuable, so you’re welcome.”

“This is one of the weapons of Heaven that you stole” Sam guesses.

“Duh” says Balthazar. “Now if you three are ready I’ll drop you off in front of Crowley’s lair, but then I’m off to find minimum safe distance.”

“Balthazar, thank you” says Sam, giving him the puppy eyes. 

“Whatever, let’s just go.”

***

Now

As Dean steps through the ring of holy fire he’s a little worried that it’ll react to his angelically imbued overcoat, but it lets him pass without incident. He moves as quickly and quietly as he can (both traits significantly improved since his encounter with Eve) to where the lance fell when Sam was knocked out. He wants to check that Sam and Bobby are both okay, but he needs to stop Raphael before he finishes the ritual. 

Lance now in hand, Dean takes a run at Raphael and rams the weapon through his back. He sees the wall under the sigil start to swirl and for a moment Dean thinks that he was too late and the Archangel has already consumed the souls of Purgatory, but then Raphael slumps forward and collapses. 

“What?” Crowley blinks at him owlishly before vanishing, apparently deciding to cut his losses. 

Dean turns back to where the door to Purgatory is starting to crack open. He’s reminded uncomfortably of the time Azazel opened the gate to Hell. This time however, the Winchesters seem to have gotten lucky for once because when Crowley had given him the incantation to look over earlier it had also explained how to close the door when one was finished. All he has to do is give it a little more monster blood.

Dean unsheathes his claws and makes a fist before splashing his blood onto the portal. The swirling chaos contracts suddenly as if angry at being aborted so soon and then slowly collapses in on itself until there’s nothing left but white tile splashed with blood. Only then does he turn to check on Sam and Bobby.

***

Since they came by Angel Air and Balthazar doesn’t seem to be planning to pick them back up again, it takes the three hunters quite a while to return to South Dakota from Crowley’s hideout in Kansas. After hotwiring a car, they drive a couple hours and find a motel to crash in and Dean spends an uncomfortable few minutes in the bathroom getting back into his own skin while Sam sits outside on one of the beds trying not to listen to the sounds his brother is making. 

When they finally make it back to Bobby’s place, Dean goes immediately to where they are keeping Castiel and Sam and Bobby follow. He’s standing in place almost exactly where they left him and Dean wonders if he’s moved at all in the last couple days. Castiel stares at the hunters with a mixture of curiosity and resentment. 

“It’s over” Dean tells him.

“Over?”

“Yep. We stopped Crowley from opening Purgatory and when douchey Archangel #3 showed up to help him, we ganked him.”

“You killed Raphael? How?”

“With this” Dean says showing him the lance. 

Castiel nods. “Michael’s lance wielded by Michael’s sword. I take it Balthazar assisted you then?”

“To an extent” Bobby coughs. 

“Then now all my friends have betrayed me.”

“Didn’t you hear us Cas?” Sam asks. “Your civil war is over. Crowley is on the run and he can’t perform the ritual without the help of an angel. You can stop fighting now.”

Dean pours a jug of water over the holy fire and it extinguishes. “It really is over dude.”

Castiel takes a single step forward and unfurls his wings. Great shadows are cast on the wall behind him that in the enclosed space seem even larger than the first time Dean saw them.

“It is not over. Even if you are correct about Raphael’s death, there will still be those amongst his followers who will want to challenge me. I will find Crowley and I will finish what we started. Once I am powerful enough all of you will see that this is for your own good.”

Sam pulls the lance from his brother’s loose grip and holds it defensively in front of them but almost as soon as he does the three of them are hit with a pulse of power that throws them all against the wall. Dean struggles to get up but he feels the force of Castiel’s grace keeping him down. He’s just conscious enough to see another flash of light as Balthazar appears behind Castiel with his Angel blade in hand. Before Castiel can turn around, Balthazar draws the blade across his friend’s throat and gathers the blue light that escapes into a glass bottle. 

As Castiel collapses, Dean clambers to his feet. “What happened? What did you do?”

“What happened was that Cas was about to go nuclear on all of us and I saved the day.”

Dean looks down at where Cas is still lying on the panic room floor. “But what did you do to him?”

“I’ve extracted his Grace. A little extreme maybe but the only way to really incapacitate him permanently without killing him.”

“So, without his Grace he’s . . .?” Sam asks, pulling himself up.

“He’ll be human. Your problem now. You’re all very lucky that I wasn’t as convinced as you morons that he’d suddenly have a complete change of heart. He’s an old friend and I didn’t want to just stab him in the back, but I couldn’t risk him screwing up the planet either.”

“So, you were just hanging around waiting to see if he’d attack us?” Bobby grumbles. 

"Yes, exactly. Your incompetence made for an excellent distraction. Now before I bid this circus adieu, I’ll be taking that back” Balthazar says pointing to the lance. Sam looks like he might want to fight him on that for a moment but then reluctantly hands it over. “Good. Now, gents, I won’t say its been fun. Don’t call me again” and with that he’s gone leaving behind three dazed hunters and one former Angel. 

***

Sam and Dean carry Castiel upstairs and lie him on the couch. Bobby grabs each of them a beer and they each find a place to settle in the crowded living room. 

“What do you think he’s going to do when he wakes up?” Sam asks. 

“Well, he won’t be happy that’s for sure” answers Bobby. 

“Yeah, he’ll be pissy, but he’s human now, he’s going to need us” says Dean. 

“So, just because he needs us now, we’re going to pretend the last couple weeks never happened?” asks Sam. 

“He’s still the guy who risked everything to help us stop the apocalypse. Besides he’s basically going through a transition into an entirely different species, which take my word for it, sucks majorly.” 

“Well, you’re both going to have to get over it because Crowley’s still out there and demons and monsters don’t take a lot of vacations” Bobby tells them.

“Sounds like you’re tired of having us around Bobby” Sam quips. 

“No, he’s right. It’s time we got back on the road. Saving former angels, hunting down the King of Hell, the family business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. This was my first fic on AO3, but if anyone is interested in my other stories, you can find them on ff.net under the name Kenophobia.


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